


Strung Together

by DyedViolet



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, arguably fluff, i am incapable of writing annabelle without a knitting needle in her hands, then again they're horror monsters so is anything truly fluff with them?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyedViolet/pseuds/DyedViolet
Summary: What Annabelle and Helen are up to while Jon and Martin are at the theater.
Relationships: Annabelle Cane/Helen | The Distortion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Strung Together

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is my direct response to episode 172, I've had the idea awhile and today's ep convinced me to write. It's very obvious that I'm pulling from 172. Except the smile thing. Jonny technically wrote it first but I had my own version of that idea before the ep dropped so... great minds think alike?   
> Just some short n soft Annahellen. Can that be the ship name? I'm gonna use that as the ship name from now on. Anyways Annahellen time.

The hallway is filled with the sound of clacking. Clacking legs of scurrying spiders, clacking of idle mandibles as they wind fresh balls of silk, clacking of needles as Annabelle knits. She’s using circular needles, sharp metal as long as a finger connected by red cord almost as long as a person is tall. And for this particular project, she finds herself having to use multiple sets of these needles. Keeping count of them hasn’t been as important as keeping track of the stitches, but at this point, she’s fairly certain it’s either fourteen or fifteen needles. Mother feeds the pattern into her hands, short strings of stitches collapsing into each other, twisting, and growing intentional holes, and she is unable to make sense of them even as she weaves them into the full picture. She simply goes stitch by stitch, winding around the fabric in a spiral. It’s no wonder that Helen decides to drop in.

“Working on another web, Belle?” She drops a kiss on her head, eyelashes scratching Annabelle’s forehead where her neck curves over her.

“Same Web as always. A hundred thousand events and causes and links, an intricate map of consequences and subtle nudges.”

“That sounds confusing,” Helen purrs.

“It is,” Annabelle answers, finishing off the stitches of a needle. The empty cord switches hands, and she flicks her wrist to whip it out of her way. She picks up the next needle and continues working. “It’s far too much for anyone to hold in their head at once.”

“Unless?” Helen prompts. Annabelle feels the tension in her mouth slacken as her smile becomes real. Mother’s little helpers rotate the web as Annabelle’s hands continue to work.

“Unless, of course, there is some external assistance.”

“Like a computer? They hired knitters to build the Apollo computers, did you know that?”

“How interesting,” Annabelle responds, dodging the question. “Mother can tell me the details, one at a time, and from there comes the whole. It’s like reading. You don’t remember every detail of a book, every little word, but you can recall the general context of the characters’ actions. You can recall the author’s intention.”

“Fascinating,” she says. There is a vague sense of nausea as the hall shifts around Helen to allow her a better look at the silk. She hums as she walks around it. She hums for longer than one’s lungs would usually permit before she returns to Annabelle’s side.

“It looks impressive! Doesn’t make a bit of sense to me, though.”

“And isn’t that the point of it? Something Knowable would defeat the purpose of such complex plans.”

“Of course. But I take it that you know how to read this?”

“About as well as someone starting out with a new language. In short, I understand the gist of it.”

“And you’re sure our accidental polyglot won’t be able to do the same?”

“He’ll be busy puzzling over the difference between ‘knit two together’ and ‘slip slip knit.’” With a sigh, Annabelle puts down the needles and stretches her wrists. Mother may be able to diminish the pain of overwork, but she still must preserve the bones and tendons of her wrists. Perhaps not in this new world, but the habit is deeply ingrained in her by this point. Almost a compulsion, one could say.

As she is stretching her hands, Helen takes one of them in hers. Annabelle looks up as she presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“Care for a dance?” At the offer, her ears begin to pick up the sounds of Mother’s little helpers. They, too, are taking a break, and seem to be using it for a jam session. There are buzzing purrs and quick thumps like a heartbeat as the sound slowly begins to fill the room.

“Alright,” Annabelle answers her with an indulgent smile. Helen lifts her to her feet and brings her other hand to her waist, long fingers spanning the full width of her back. Annabelle lifts a hand to Helen’s shoulder, and another to her bicep, and another to her waist.

One could call their dance a waltz, if one were in a generous mood. Their rhythmless steps reflect the rhythmless noise substituting for music, and the only care they put into it is to avoid stepping on the web or each other. They spin aimlessly around together to the spiders' mating calls, and for a time, the Distortion’s doors lead to a dance hall.


End file.
